Focus
With a lighthearted caper movie, the formula is easy to understand if not execute. It's all about conning the viewer as effectively as the on-screen marks while camouflaging enough of the unavoidable plot holes to make things hold up on a second viewing. Although Focus, a comedy/thriller that plays to star Will Smith's strengths, succeeds at the former, it's on thin ice with the latter. The movie is mostly entertaining, although there are times when the pacing flags, but several scenes (one in particular) are designed for in-the-moment sleight-of-hand without being overly concerned about whether they'll make any sense in retrospect.

If the granddaddy of movies in this genre is the Redford/Newman Oscar winner, The Sting, then Focus is a distant cousin several times removed. It does enough things right to earn a recommendation, but there are misfires aplenty for those who care to look for them. The chemistry between Smith and co-star Margot Robbie (who will forever be remembered for her revealing turn in Martin Scorsese's Wolf of Wall Street) is strong enough to paper over their underdeveloped romance but there are a couple of monologues that function as exposition dumps (including one near the very end). The third-act twist (and house rules specify that caper movies must all have these) is unpredictable but also borders on nonsensical if one bothers to sit down and think about it. The movie is at its most fun when it stays small and light. One of the best sequences is a New Orleans street scene that turns pickpocketing into ballet.

Focus takes us into the world of master con artist Nicky (Smith), a slick operator who boasts unparalleled skills, relentless focus, and possibly a gambling problem. Although he sometimes works alone, he has assembled a team of 30-odd associates whose job is to labor in concert to steal as much as quickly and surreptitiously as possible. Nicky's not interested in a big score; volume derives income. Nicky's new apprentice, Jess (Robbie), is a looker with raw capabilities that Nicky wants to refine. In the process, he falls for her. Or does he? And how does she feel about him? Is he a beloved mentor or a mark? Is she an innocent or a femme fatale? In some ways, the questions are more interesting than the answers.

The movie travels from New York City to New Orleans to Buenos Aries with the stakes becoming higher with each stop. The second half of the film doesn't work as well as the first half, but it's got a snarling Gerald McRaney (the veteran TV star who may still be best known for starring roles in "Major Dad" and "Simon & Simon") to provide an enjoyable diversion.

Focus underscores that Smith is at his best in movies with this tone: a little flippant but with darker undercurrents. It's not a straightforward comedy but there are some funny moments. Smith is in desperate need of a hit; it has been about seven years since he made a legitimate box office splash. It's perhaps no surprise that Nicky owes more than a passing debt to the title character of Hitch, one of Smith's best-liked films. It's unfortunate that co-directors/screenwriters Glenn Ficarra & John Requa couldn't do a better job fleshing out the interaction between Smith and Robbie, although the revolving door of actors attached to the project could have something to do with that.

As so-called "refrigerator films" go, this one doesn't boast the smartest of scripts but it's clever enough to offer a few surprises and the likeability factor for the protagonists is high. The film's tone, like its pacing, is uneven, but that's not a major drawback. It doesn't overstay its welcome although it comes perilously close during a lackluster denouement. Focus is uncommonly good for a February release (damning with faint praise?) but may not clear the bar of being worthy of a trip through snow and ice to reach the multiplex. Star power, actor chemistry, and caper movie twists make for a nice diversionâ€¦ but not much more.

The Lazarus Effect
The Lazarus Effect begins with an intriguing premise then proceeds to squander all the early goodwill through a slow, inexorable descent into cheap horror gimmicks. What begins as an intriguing blend of such diverse sources as Frankenstein, the 1990 Julia Roberts/Kiefer Sutherland thriller Flatliners, and a 1966 episode of Star Trek ("Where No Man Has Gone Before") turns into a standard-order assortment of "boo!" moments and freakish makeup.

One of the problems encountered by the filmmakers is that the screenplay goes to great lengths to humanize the five protagonists so that when one of them "goes bad" as a result of being brought back from the other side, it's difficult to be frightened by that individual. We're not talking about a demon from hell or a zombie but a human being who, through no fault of their own, has been shocked back to life using a drug that accelerates evolution. One could make a case that the real villains of this story are the scientists. It goes back to Frankenstein: who's the real monster in that story, Dr. Victor or the misbegotten creature he assembles? Would that The Lazarus Effect pursued this question rather than going down the obvious path trodden by seemingly every other teen-oriented horror film.

The film's verisimilitude is weak and there's a bizarre subplot involving a greedy drug company that has no purpose beyond setting up the fatal accident. The Lazarus Effect is mercifully short - only about 80 minutes in length - so it's not around long enough to overstay its welcome. The last act is confusing and poorly thought-out, causing one to wonder whether the end result is something the studio tried to "fix" in the editing room. Whatever the case, this film doesn't work as science fiction, horror, or a morality play. It's more disappointing than terrible but the missed opportunities leave a bitter aftertaste.

The DUFF
The Duff would make John Hughes smile. With its mixture of wit, teen friendly situations, and heart, The Duff feels like something that might have come out of Hughes' '80s playbook. Although the film understands its target audience, its appeal is by no means limited to teenagers. The screenplay, credited to Josh A. Cagan from a novel by Kody Keplinger, is a loose reimagining of Pygmalion. It's the kind of film that could connect with high school girls in 2015 the way Mean Girls did for those of the previous generation.

"DUFF" stands for "Designated Ugly Fat Friend" and is meant to refer to the least attractive member of any clique. Pretty girls, the film argues, often like to hang out with someone plain as a means of enhancing their desirability. DUFFs serve as "gatekeepers." Because they are more approachable, people wanting to date their friends come to them to get an "in." For the DUFF, playing this role offers an opportunity to be part of a popular crowd by association.

Mae Whitman's Bianca is this movie's DUFF. She's smart, sassy, and a geek. Her best friends are Jess (Skyler Samuels) and Casey (Bianca A. Santos). The three are inseparable, but only two play roles in guys' (wet) dreams. Bianca has a huge crush on musician-type Toby (Nick Eversman) but she gets so tongue-tied any time she has an opportunity for a conversation that the chance of ever dating him is remote at best. She's perfectly comfortable with being Jess and Casey's DUFF until her neighbor (and the captain of the football team), Wesley (Robbie Amell), bluntly defines her situation. After that, her life - especially her social life - goes into a free-fall. Eventually, she makes a deal with Wesley - in return for her helping him pass science, he will teach her the finer points of being popular, making her over so she feels comfortable approaching Toby.

For the most part, the script eschews the juvenile silliness we have come to associate with high school-based motion pictures. (The exceptions are over-the-top sequences that present a teacher, played by The Hangover's Ken Jeong, and the principal as cartoonish.) For the protagonist in a genre that thrives on recycling stereotypes, Bianca is extraordinarily well developed. Although she has a quick mind and sharp tongue, several scenes show her in a vulnerable state - one of which illustrates how painful cyberbullying can be. This episode, which presents her as pushing forward when it would be easier to crawl up into a ball, displays a strength of personality it's impossible not to root for - and having a rooting interest for the protagonist is important in any romantic comedy.

Ultimately, that's what this is: a traditional high school romance where everyone in the audience knows which two characters are destined for each other. It's so obvious that Bianca and Wesley will be locking lips by the end of the film that such a revelation doesn't warrant a spoiler designation. This is, after all, feel-good wish fulfillment and any other ending would meet with venomous viewer disapproval. As with any romantic comedy, the trip is more important than the destination and The Duff makes the wise decision of allowing Bianca and Wesley to share the screen frequently - a key element in cementing their attraction and displaying their chemistry.

With the exceptions of Allison Janney (as Bianca's mother) and Ken Jeong, the cast is populated by young actors ranging in age between 17 and 26. The best of these is Mae Whitman, best known for her role on TV's "Parenthood" (and for voice work on the animated "Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles"), who shows depth and range, providing a self-aware, fully realized Bianca. She is capably matched by Robbie Amell, although one suspects his six-pack had something to do with his casting. The least impressive of the bunch is Disney girl Bella Thorne, whose scenery-chewing as uber-bitch Madison occasionally mutes The Duff's charm.

The Duff isn't just an enjoyable February movie; it would be enjoyable regardless of the time of year in which it was released. To be sure, it's standard-order high school romantic fluff but it pushes all the right buttons, is capably brought to the screen (by first-time feature director Ari Sandel), and oozes feel-good without making the viewer want to throw up. Although perhaps not as edgy as Mean Girls (and certainly nowhere close to Heathers territory), the movie has enough to offer that one doesn't have to be a teenage girl to enjoy the journey.

The sport in question is cross country track. Coach Jim White (Kevin Costner) arrives in McFarland, California in time for the 1987 school year with his family - wife Cheryl (Maria Bello) and daughters Julie (Morgan Saylor) and Jamie (Elsie Fisher) - in tow. He's not here by choice, however; after being fired from three different schools for insubordination and losing his temper, he has run out of options. McFarland High is the only place willing to offer him employment. After one week, he has been fired as the assistant football coach but is kept on as P.E. teacher. He sees something in his students, especially the fleet-of-foot Thomas (Carlos Pratts), that leads him to believe a cross-country track team might be successful at McFarland. His first task is selling it to the board of education and principal. The more difficult challenge is selling it to his would-be participants.

A pitfall avoided by McFarland USA is the "Great White Savior" trap. The citizenry of McFarland is primarily comprised of immigrants of Mexican ancestry - a character observes while driving down one of the town's streets: "Are we in Mexico?" As the story progresses, it becomes apparent that this is as much about McFarland saving Jim White as it is about him infusing the town with a sense of pride and self-worth. Achieving this balance allows McFarland USA to come across as genuinely inspirational as opposed to being sanctimonious.

McFarland USA has a distinction in that it's the rare sports movie directed by a woman. Caro's perspective is invaluable to the film's trajectory. Not only does she leech some of the testosterone out of the mix but she fixes the focus firmly on the characters - and not just the seven competing boys and their coach. The movie extends meaningful scenes to the mothers and fathers of several of the teammates and transforms their concerns into more than two-dimensional obstacles to winning a championship. McFarland USA has more heart and less cynicism than many sports movies. The inevitable Big Win is important but it's not everything. The overriding theme isn't one of overcoming the odds but of learning the meaning of family.

The production is (of course) "based on a true story." The somewhat fictionalized chronology transpires in 1987 - recent enough for people and settings to seem familiar yet far enough in the past so things like cell phones and the Internet had not come into being. The movie doesn't seem like a period piece; until a date was mentioned, I thought it was happening in the present day (although Coach White's car should have been a clue that this isn't 2015). Like the recent Spare Parts, McFarland USA focuses on the immigrant experience, but this version is more politically correct in that the characters are in the United States legally. They lead hard lives (as illustrated in an effective scene where Coach White spends a day living in the shoes of three of his boys) in order to make living wages but no one is hiding from the government.

This represents the second movie to arrive in theaters within a month to feature Kevin Costner in a drama about race relations (the previous one being Black or White). His patented form of low-key acting is effective in this arena and he is effectively supported by a cast of unknowns and first-time performers (aside from Costner, the only "name" in the cast is Maria Bello). If there's a nit to pick about the supporting players, it's that the men playing the members of the McFarland Cougars are in many cases too old to be accepted as high school students. Carlos Pratts is an example - he was 28 when the film was made. His interaction with Morgan Saylor (who is 20 but looks age-appropriate for the 15-year old she's playing) may seem uncomfortable to some.

Invoking Hoosiers when discussing McFarland USA places this film in august company even when acknowledging the gap between the two. Sports movies in recent years have become generic and mostly uninteresting, with the typical complaint being that the on-field recreations are well-done but everything off-field is forgettable. McFarland USA reverses this by making the competitions the least interesting aspect. It has heart and is inspirational and, although those may be corny admissions, this is Disney and the film works as solid family entertainment.

Fifty Shades of Grey
Who would have imagined that a movie about sex could be so boring? That's the bottom line when it comes to Fifty Shades of Grey, although I'm perfectly willing to admit that this could be one of those films where the "Men are from Mars, Women are from Venus" effect comes into play. After all, this movie is effectively a visual representation of one of the most common female fantasies (the so-called "rape fantasy"). Seen from that perspective, one can perhaps defend Fifty Shades of Grey as something more than an overlong, repetitive, unsatisfying drama about a physically and emotionally abusive love affair.

For most movies, a one or two sentence synopsis does a disservice - not so for Fifty Shades of Grey, which is so plot-deficient that its essence can be captured easily in a 140-character tweet: Shy college girl meets kinky rich dude who attempts to manipulate her into becoming a submissive to his dominant. That's pretty much the entirety of what Fifty Shades of Grey has to offer. Its window into the world of BDSM (Bondage & Discipline, Dominance & Submission, Sadism & Masochism) is idealized but there's a disturbing aspect to this fantasy. When the participants in a BDSM relationship are well-matched (a dom and a sub), it can be rewarding for both. However, when one is a narcissist control freak and the other is merely looking for a "normal" relationship, things can turn physically and emotionally abusive - which is precisely what happens in Fifty Shades of Grey.

The interaction between sweet Anastasia Steele (Dakota Johnson) and cold Christian Grey (Jamie Dornan) isn't kinky; it's twisted. This is a warped relationship from the start but the filmmakers seem blithely unaware of the dark territory into which they have stumbled and insist this is healthy erotica. It's supposedly about Anastasia's development as a person but the movie steers clear of examining the psychological damage being done to her along the way. It reminds me of General Hospital in the late 1970s/early 1980s when Luke's rape of Laura became referred to as a "mutual seduction."

It's no secret that Fifty Shades of Grey achieved its notoriety because of its supposedly-steamy sex scenes and, although they have been tamed and shortened in the film to avoid the dreaded NC-17, they remain in the forefront (at least following a generic "meet cute" 45-minute lead-up). We see all of Dakota Johnson and most of Jamie Dornan, but director Sam Taylor-Johnson's approach is sterile and clinical. There's nothing arousing about Johnson and Dornan's clothes-free acrobatics. Chemistry might be an overrated term but there's no heat or combustibility evident here. The chilliness between the actors speaks less of obsession, adoration, or love than it does of indifference. During a bathtub scene when Johnson reclines against Dornan, there's a palpable sense of discomfort - as if neither of them wants to be there. (Watch their expressions.) It's off-putting and breaks the fantasy almost as thoroughly as recognizing what Fifty Shades of Grey is actually selling.

Johnson has difficulty grasping the essential characteristics of Anastasia from the beginning, overplaying her mousiness to a degree that's almost embarrassing. Dornan gives us a stony, domineering, self-obsessed Christian - a monster not far removed from Patrick Bateman in Bret Easton Ellis' American Psycho (memorably played on film by Christian Bale). I'm not sure if this is an accurate reflection of the character in E.L. James' novel but it emphasizes how unhealthy - bordering on toxic - the film's central romance is.

Fifty Shades of Grey ends on an unsettled note that, rather than closing the book on the ugliness of Christian and Ana's tryst, promises more angst, manipulation, and emotional power struggles in future episodes. Apparently, even low-brow material like this can't tell an entire story in a two-hour time slot. Sequels are fine, but is it too much to ask for a film to work on its own without requiring the viewer to see the other installments? Fifty Shades of Grey ends up coming across as a curdled setup for additional financially-motivated productions that hopefully will show more respect to the characters and the audience than this one does.

Kingsman: The Secret Service
Kingsman: The Secret Service is to the '60s British spy movie genre what Kick-Ass is to today's motion picture superhero movement. Part homage, part cartoonish spoof, and part high-energy actioner, Kingsman feels right at home with the likes of Kick-Ass and Layer Cake, two previous efforts from director Matthew Vaughn. (The latter stared a pre-007 Daniel Craig and is sometimes credited for getting the actor the coveted Bond role.) Based on a comic book, Kingsman occasionally betrays its roots but Vaughn has adapted it to fit his unique approach. Fast-paced with a morbid sense of humor and copious pop culture references, Kingsman breezes along at a nice clip until it gets a little bogged down during its final third.

The film's most obvious inspiration is the Connery Bonds (which are openly referenced) but there's an equally evident call-out to another spy series. Michael Caine, the star of The Ipcress File and a couple of other Len Deighton Harry Palmer adaptations, plays the role of Arthur, Kingsman's version of "M." There are also unsubtle references to The Avengers (the '60s TV series not the Marvel movie) and even (would you believe?) Get Smart. Vaughn has a lot of fun frolicking in this playground, doing unexpected things and engaging in a head game of one-upsmanship with Steven Spielberg's Raiders of the Lost Ark. One could argue that the only thing missing from Kingsman is a cameo by a Roger Moore or Timothy Dalton, although Moore at least is present in spirit.

In order to become a Kingsman, Eggsy has to go through a Hunger Games-like contest of elimination where the last one standing gets the vacant seat at the not-so-round table. Most of the candidates are like Edward Holcroft's Charlie - sneering and superior. Eggsy quickly becomes attached to the approachable Roxy (Sophie Cookson), one of only two women seeking to earn the nom de Kingsman of "Lancelot." (The previous bearer of that title having been vivisected by a woman with blades for feet.)

Kingsman features three memorable sequences. The first is a bar brawl in which Galahad displays his talents to an amazed Eggsy. The second occurs in a Kentucky church where the darker side of human nature comes to the fore. And the thirdâ€¦ well, let's just say it involves a lot of mushroom clouds. Vaughn goes over-the-top in the right measure. It's a difficult thing to satirize Bond because so many aspects of the 007 series skate close to self-parody. So Vaughn pokes fun without going too far and without losing sight of the fact that, at its heart, Kingsman isn't intended to be a straightforward comedy. The film's irreverence is its greatest asset, as when Valentine and Galahad confront each other with a knowing nod toward how that encounter would have been handled by Connery.

Firth, representing Kingsman's marketable star, is joined at the top of the marquee by international newcomer Taron Egerton, whose previous credits have primarily been on U.K. TV. He has plenty of sex appeal and charisma and looks great in a suit. Samuel L. Jackson surprisingly tones down his usual tendencies to play a megalomaniac with a scarily credible motivation. Mark Strong, who often plays a heavy, gets a few opportunities to shine as Merlin, Arthur's right-hand man. Small, supporting parts go to Mark Hamill as a rumpled professor and Jack Davenport as an unflappable agent.

Although Kingsman is for the most part an enjoyable experience, it runs too long. There are times, especially during the second half, when it feels repetitive. There are also some pacing issues during the training sequences - the movie works best when Firth and Egerton are sharing the screen rather than when they're doing their own things. (Galahad conveniently ends up in a coma for a while to limit the amount of back-and-forth switching necessary.) It's difficult to assess what could have been pruned from Kingsman's final cut but a little tightening up might have resulted in a stronger, sharper film. Still, when it comes to affectionate spy movie spoofs, this is one of the best, and certainly more engaging than anything offered by the Austin Powers series.

Jupiter Ascending
One of the key aspects of any science fiction or fantasy saga is world (or universe) building. This process refers to the creation and development of the reality in which the story transpires. More than mere background, it informs plot development, character motivation, and nearly everything that transpires during the course of the narrative. Jupiter Ascending, the latest eye-popping stepchild of the Wachowskis, excels at universe building. The problem is that the backstory is too large to contain what appears on screen during the course of a 127-minute motion picture. Put another way, Jupiter Ascending feels like a truncated, Cliffs Notes version of something that might have worked a lot better as a mini-series. Two hours is too short for this tale and the end result suffers greatly because of that restriction.

Visually, Jupiter Ascending excels, although those with an aversion to CGI may be offended. A close cousin to the special effects excesses of George Lucas in the Star Wars prequels, Jupiter Ascending makes sure that its entire budget ends up on display. There are some jaw-dropping space battle scenes and more pyrotechnics than even Michael Bay has attempted. One can throw many criticisms at Jupiter Ascending but it's never boring. It is, however, occasionally unfocused, sometimes confusing, and saddled with a too-predictable ending.

The film begins in a low-key fashion, introducing us to Jupiter Jones (Mila Kunis), a Russian immigrant to the United States who works as a paid maid to help her family make ends meet. Little does she know, she has been targeted by an alien conglomerate for extermination. The Abrasax family - Balem (Eddie Redmayne), Kalique (Tuppence Middleton), and Titus (Douglas Booth) - see Jupiter as either a threat or an opportunity and act according to their own interests. Balem sends assassins to Chicago to eliminate her. Titus hires Caine (Channing Tatum), an elite ex-military "hunter," to protect her and bring her to him. Kalique plays her cards close to her chest; it's unclear what her goals are until she reveals them. It doesn't take long before the laser beams start firing and Jupiter discovers she is very definitely no longer in Kansas - and not even on Earth.

Jupiter Ascending is episodic and none of the episodes are developed as fully as they should be. The sense of incompleteness increases as the movie unspools. The love story between Jupiter and Caine is rushed, giving the Padme/Anakin affair in Attack of the Clones a run for its money as the least convincing sci-fi screen romance in recent memory. Mila Kunis and Channing Tatum evidence little in the way of chemistry but this could be more the fault of the action-oriented script than an inability of the actors to meaningfully connect. And, although Tatum's casting is defensible, the same claim can't be made of Kunis, who is out of her depth. Delightful in smaller movies, Kunis never convinces as the Earth-born, space-faring heroine of this would-be epic.

In many ways, Jupiter is the least interesting character. The Abrasax siblings are more complex and deserving of a greater share of the screen time than they are accorded. Kalique's amoral ambiguity is fascinating and Titus' oily charm and obscure motives make him a fascinating antagonist. Balem is a more straightforward villain, although 2015 Oscar nominee Eddie Redmayne plays him like he's auditioning for a part in a remake of The Adventures of Priscilla, Queen of the Desert. Sean Bean portrays a standard-order grizzled veteran whose loyalties are as flexible as circumstances dictate.

Although Jupiter Ascending contains its share of missteps, there is a moment of brilliance that deserves recognition. During an extended aside, we are treated to a satirical look at the bureaucratic labyrinth that infects the alien society into which Jupiter is catapulted. She is shuttled from officious paper-pusher to officious paper-pusher without getting closer to a resolution. I was strongly reminded of Brazil - an intentional allusion made concrete when the final bureaucrat on Jupiter's odyssey is played by none other than Terry Gilliam. It's as audacious a wink as one can imagine.

Fans of the Wachowskis may be disappointed that Jupiter Ascending recalls their more recent efforts - the bloated Matrix sequels and Cloud Atlas - than it does the tight, taut movies they made early in their careers (Bound and The Matrix in particular). It's a hit-and-miss affair - not so bad that it deserves dismissal but not good enough to earn a strong recommendation. The 3-D is a mess and Michael Giacchino's overbearing score frequently drowns out the dialogue. Jupiter Ascending may have enough energy and razzle-dazzle to compensate for some of its deficiencies but there are a few too many of them to lift the film out of the decaying orbit into which it enters.

The Seventh Son
Had Seventh Son been released in the 1980s, it would have been deemed an adequate - perhaps even good - fantasy adventure. However, in the three decades since Conan the Barbarian and Dragonslayer defined the genre's best big screen attempts, there have been significant changes. Fantasy fans demand complexity - something they have gotten from Harry Potter, The Lord of the Rings, and (on TV) Game of Thrones. By-the-numbers, generic plots no longer work and that, unfortunately, is what Seventh Son delivers. Impressive set design and visuals, excessive CGI, and a loud score from Marco Beltrami can't fully compensate for bland character development and a predictable narrative that rushes along on a linear trajectory.

Ben Barnes, who's no stranger to fantasy due to his role as Prince Caspian in a couple of the Narnia films, takes the lead. He's the "seventh son of a seventh son," which makes him destiny's child to fill the role of the "Spook's apprentice." Said Spook is Master Gregory (Jeff Bridges), the last of a warrior profession dedicated to the eradication of witches. When he takes Tom Ward (Barnes) away from his dear mother (Olivia Williams), the situation is dire: wicked witch Mother Malkin (Julianne Moore) has returned from a long span in captivity and is set upon fulfilling certain megalomaniacal desires. Her power will reach its apex with the arrival of the full blood moon and Master Gregory and Tom have that long to stop her. Complicating matters is the arrival into Tom's world of Alice (Alicia Vikander), the fated love of his life - who happens to be both a witch and Mother Malkin's niece.

Seventh Son feels a little like Clash of the Titans (without the mythological backstory or character names) in that it introduces a lot of big, ugly CGI monsters for Gregory and Tom to fight. There are dragons, giants, ghasts, and a variety of other things culled from the Dungeons & Dragons Monster Manual. The plot is essentially a standard-order quest to eliminate the Big Bad Boss before she becomes unstoppable. Along the way, Tom evolves from being a pig keeper (a nod to The Book of Three?) into someone with Real Purpose. Call it the Luke Skywalker arc, although it was a lot more entertaining in 1977 when it happened a long time ago in a galaxy far, far away.

Barnes' performance is suitably bland - he's handsome but there isn't much of a character for him to inhabit so he's forced to get by on good looks and limited charm. Alicia Vikander is equally photogenic but, like Barnes, the script doesn't demand much from her. Julianne Moore manages to go over-the-top without being completely ridiculous. She's about to win an Oscar but definitely not for roles like this. Then there's the strange case of Jeff Bridges who seems to be cannibalizing the "work" he did in R.I.P.D. That's not a good thing; it's as if he got lost on the way to an audition for a remake of Monty Python and the Holy Grail. His interpretation of Master Gregory is what one might expect for a Drunk Gandalf or Drunk Dumbledore. Very strange indeed.

Seventh Son, based on the novel The Spook's Apprentice by Joseph Delaney, probably achieves what director Sergei Bodrov intended. The problem is that Bodrov's ambition extends no further than providing audiences with snacks of visual awe. The cities of this medieval land are impressive, the monsters are menacing, and the magical displays are eye-catching, but it all feels rather hollow in the end. The movie didn't bore me but neither did it draw me in the way good fantasy should. The film's failings seem to be rooted in commonly held misperceptions about what a mainstream fantasy film should be like. The genre is at its best when it excites the imagination; it would be hard to qualify Seventh Son as either "exciting" or "imaginative."

Black or White
There could be no more timely subject matter for a movie in early 2015 than race relations in America. Black or White, a sporadically insightful movie from Mike Binder, approaches some of these issues head-on without flinching or resorting to hysteria. For the most part, it offers a balanced illustration of how stereotyping and subtle forms of racism can inform everyday actions and decisions. The film is by no means perfect and its goals are undermined by a sloppy climax and conclusion but it avoids preaching while providing fodder for thought.

This is the latest starring vehicle for Kevin Costner, who has returned to the limelight with a vengeance in the last few years after nearly two low-profile decades. Some of Costner's recent projects have obviously been financially motivated but that's not the case with Black or White, for which he receives a producer credit to go along with a starring role. In a previous review, I noted that Costner's acting has improved markedly with age. In his heyday - the years when he made the likes of The Untouchables and Robin Hood - his popularity was more about his looks than his ability. In Black or White, he displays more range than he ever did in the '80s and '90s. It's a difficult part because he has to make his character sympathetic while at the same time not hiding his demons: alcoholism and traces of ingrained racism that even he is unaware of. He is paired with fellow Oscar nominee Octavia Spencer who, like Costner, is tasked with crafting a character who faces her own challenges about skin color.

Costner and Spencer play Elliot Anderson and Rowena Jeffers, the grandparents of a bi-racial 7-year old girl, Eloise Anderson (Jillian Estell). Eloise's family history is laced with tragedy. Her mother, Elliot's daughter, died at birth. Her father, Reggie Davis (Andre Holland), is a drug addict whose habit has dominated his recent years. She has been raised by Elliot and his wife, Carol (Jennifer Ehle), but when Carol is killed in a car accident, Rowena wonders whether a shared custody situation might represent an equitable approach going-forward. The struggle that develops isn't bitter -Elliot and Rowena, despite being oil and water, remain on speaking terms - but it highlights the differences in what the two potential caregivers believe to be best for their granddaughter. Both have their blind spots and weaknesses.

It's too bad that Binder goes for a feel-good ending because this poisons Black or White's final fifteen minutes with a forced, artificial feel that isn't helped by an ill-fitting dollop of magical realism. Individuals who are consistent over nearly 100 minutes of screen time suddenly act out of character. Binder's direction evidences heavy-handed moments - he relies overmuch on Terence Blanchard's heartstring-tugging score and he has a penchant for sentimentality (a problem in his previous outing, 2007's Reign Over Me). There are also some ill-advised attempts at comedy (Eloise's self-pimping tutor, the ditzy girlfriend of Elliot's lawyer) that come across as more awkward than amusing.

Black or White deserves credit for framing racism in less overt terms than we are used to seeing in motion pictures and more in-line with what "average" people encounter in real life. Movies in general gravitate toward hyperbole; Binder resists this. Elliot sees himself as color-blind; he's not aware that at least some element of his resistance to Rowena is based on stereotypes. Likewise, Rowena views Elliot through lenses tinted by her own prejudices. There's a telling scene in which Elliot enters Rowena's house and watches the free and easy way in which his granddaughter interacts with her cousins, aunt, and other members of the family.

Although young Jillian Estell gives an effervescent performance, she is underserved by a script that sees Eloise as a plot device. The girl has no real character - she's less a person than a catalyst. When she paints a picture, it's for us to see how Elliot and Rowena react to it. Her scenes with Reggie and Elliot are all about the adults. Eloise is supposed to be seven but she talks and acts like a much older girl and it's odd that her grief about her grandmother's death lasts for only a couple of scenes (while Elliot's is an ongoing companion). For a movie that wants us to believe that everyone involved seeks what's best for Eloise (rather than employing her as a pawn in a larger struggle), it's odd that the screenplay fails to make her more real.

For much of its running length, Black or White is an uncommonly brave film but it loses its gumption at the end. The good but flawed effort is at least partially undone by the way in which Binder chooses to conclude matters.

Project Almanac
Call Project Almanac a "shaky-cam special", and it's a damn shame. The resultant production, both shaken and stirred, transforms a potentially entertaining pulp time travel story into a misbegotten exercise in frustration. It takes what might have been a moderately enthusiastic "thumbs up" and turns it into a "thumbs down." It makes one lament how enjoyable these 108 minutes might have been had the filmmakers not been misled into thinking that "found footage" was anything more than a tired gimmick whose effectiveness and welcome have been worn out for a long time. Maybe it will work better on home video where unrestrained camera movement is less likely to provoke nausea but it certainly doesn't work on a big screen.

If Chronicle asked the question of how a group of emotionally unready teenagers might cope with being granted superpowers, Project Almanac travels a similar road with respect to time travel. This isn't intended to be hard-core science fiction and doesn't come across as such. It's not overly interested in things like predestination paradoxes and falls short in the "think it through" mental exercises that accompany high-end time travel movies. But there's a kernel of truth in all of this because most teenagers, trapped in their high school bubble, would be tempted to use time travel to do things that older people might consider inconsequential or self-absorbed. And they probably have never heard of "the butterfly effect."

Project Almanac wonders what five high school kids might do if they came into possession of a time machine. They are David Raskin (Jonny Weston), the genius who takes his late father's research to the next level; David's hot blond sister, Christina (Ginny Gardner), who has a compulsion to film everything; David's geeky buddies, Quinn (Sam Lerner) and Adam (Allen Evangelista); and Jessie (Sofia Black-D'Elia), the girl of David's dreams. At first, when he realizes what he has, David wants to take things slowly - start with small experiments and build to bigger things, but his friends aren't patient. So it's not long before the quintet has made a successful jump 24 hours into the past. They quickly learn that time travel can be dangerous so they implement a rule: no solo jumping. For a while, the friends use time travel as a recreational device: a way to relive "good" days, re-do tests, take revenge on snooty girls who harass Christina, win the lottery, and pursue second chance romances. But, when David breaks the rule, they learn there's a dark side to all of this.

It's easy enough to have fun with the possibilities raised by Project Almanac without treating this as anything more than light, disposable entertainment. The characters are nicely drawn and there's something endearing about the uncertainty with which David approaches Jessie. The problem I have is the way first-time director Dean Israelite chooses to tell the story. I assume the reason this movie is presented from a first-person perspective is because of a desire to mimic Chronicle. That doesn't make it a good idea. In fact, video capture by a character in all these situations is more nonsensical than usual for this sort of movie. And, for the viewer, being forced to watch an entire movie shot with movement and jitter is enough to generate a headache. It's worse than a distraction; it's an abomination. And there's no reason for it. The first rule of the found footage/first person approach is that it should be used sparingly and only when there's a compelling reason to do so. Project Almanac offers no such reason. In fact, a strong case could be made that this would be a better movie had it been filmed using a steadycam or at least a tripod.

It's curious how popular the concept of time travel has become in recent years, whether in serious endeavors like Looper or Interstellar or less hardcore offerings like the belatedly popular Doctor Who or the mind-bending Predestination. Project Almanac is probably the least ambitious of the recent crop of productions but the style in which it's made makes this a dubious choice for an investment of the commodity it plays games with: time.